Deify
by Artemisdesari
Summary: 5th in The Hand of Sorrow Verse. Things go wrong, the boys run. Cas continues to deal. Now COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Part five of The Hand of Sorrow Verse. It's officially taken over my life. Song at the beginning and end of each chapter is Deify by Disturbed and it inspired the end of this fic, which has lurked for months on my hard drive waiting for a fic to fit it._

_I've also decided to dedicate this monster to everyone in the Roadhouse. They know who they are._

_**Disclaimer:** I own neither song nor show, I'm getting my feet dirty in the sand box and shall return everything only mildly damaged when I'm done._

Deify.

_**All my devotion betrayed  
I am no longer afraid  
I was too blinded to see  
How much you've stolen from me**_

"Castiel."

At the sound of the harsh voice, Dean is certain that this is _not_ a good thing. He can hear the power there, even though his companion's name is said softly, the voice vibrates with it, leaving something on the edge of his hearing, in the same way that Castiel's did before this whole torture thing started and it is just another indication of how bad things are for his angel. His suspicions that the owner of the voice is another angel are confirmed by the way that Castiel's shoulders stiffen underneath his hand, the desperation, _fear_, in the blue eyes that are turned upon him confirm it and, internally, Dean curses, because if this angel is here to take Castiel back, to torture him or to kill him, there is little that he can do to stop it.

The thing of it is, he has no weapons, the sword that Seraphiel gave him is in the house with Sam, who cannot touch it because of something to do with his demon blood and Dean feels strange each time he picks it up, was too distracted the first time he used it to notice. Castiel knows that Dean cannot defend him, cannot really help him, because he bows his head and closes his eyes and Dean can _feel_ his despair, because it is mirrored in his own soul. Still, he may not have a weapon, but he does have his free will, has his _defiance_ and he silently promises that he will fight them in every way that he can, starting with _not_ staying on his knees in the dirt while waiting for the new arrival to start waxing poetic about taking Castiel back upstairs.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" He demands, hears a muffled noise from Castiel as he turns to look at the new comer. This one seems different from the others. The vessel is still young, certainly younger than Dean, with a mop of unruly blonde hair and brown, flat, soulless eyes. He wears jeans, though, and a white t-shirt with a dark green jacket.. Somehow, Dean likes him less for all of that, for looking so young and normal. Something flickers across his face, though, at Dean's question, something that looks suspiciously like nostalgia, even though angels, as a group, do not experience such things.

"I am Sandalphon," he responds and Dean snorts as Castiel shifts, still kneeling, and that sits badly with him, Cas should be standing, not in the dirt before this creature, this soulless shell who would stand by and watch as his kind torture one of their own for daring to think and act for himself.

As if sensing Dean's thoughts, Castiel gets to his feet, still standing warily behind the hunter as the new angel, this Sandalphon, watches him a little too closely for Dean's tastes. So he steps to the side, blocking Castiel from view a little more and placing himself firmly between the two celestial beings, for all the good it will do if Sandalphon decides that he wants to take Cas, but it is a gesture, the defiance, and that seems to matter, because the angel nods, just once.

"Whatever it is you want," Dean snarls, "I don't wanna hear it. I'm through with you and your kind."

"I am not here for you, Dean," the angel sounds smug, and Dean knows that is just about normal for them, to sound like they think they are better than the mud-monkeys they were supposed to be saving.

"You're not taking him," and even as he says them, Dean knows the words are futile, is not sure if they refer to Sam or Cas or _both_ of them, does not really care because he will protect them both anyway.

"What makes you think you could stop me?" Just like that Dean wishes for a knife or a gun, even a _crowbar_, more than he wants to live, just so that he could have something more _substantial_ to strike with than his fists.

"If you _must_ take me," Castiel speaks then, sounding calmer than he has for days, almost resigned, "then at least show me the mercy of killing me." There is so much that Dean wants to say here, so many objections, so many angry words about the request, threats and rage, everything bubbling just below the surface and he takes his eyes off Sandalphon for long enough to look at Castiel and he can see the fear is still there, even if the angel looks otherwise too calm for one expecting to die.

"Heaven is not merciful, Castiel," Sandalphon responds before Dean can get a word in and Castiel slumps, a broken sigh escaping his lips, "and I am not here to take you back. You cannot continue to hide here. Zachariah is coming with a cohort to take you _both_ into custody. If you are to save mankind, you _must _leave."

As quickly as he arrived, the newcomer is gone with a heavy flap of unseen wings and the rush of cold night air. No words are needed, even if Zachariah were not on his way, that this one angel has found them is enough. Clearly this place is not safe anymore, if one has found them, it is only a matter of time before the rest do.

Castiel is shaken, though, that much is clear as Dean tells his brother that it is time for them to go, time to leave and get back on the road and Dean has to wonder at the motivation of this angel, telling them that Zachariah is coming. Wonders who he, it, really was to have Castiel this off kilter, knows that he needs answers but that this is not the time for it, not when they have to run for it and determines that after the evening's events he is not going to let that sword out of his sight, no matter how strange it makes him feel.

He is surprised when Castiel picks the blade up, the first time that he has _looked_ at it willingly, let alone _touched_ it, since Dean pulled him out of the warehouse. Irrationally the sight of it in his hand is somehow completely unnatural and it _upsets_ Dean to see it there. It is at odds with the Castiel that he knows, makes Dean angry, makes him want to snatch the blade from his hands, partly because Dean has begun to think of it as _his_, but mostly because he knows that if it comes down to the possibility that Castiel will be captured, the angel will turn the blade on himself and Dean knows this, because it is what _he_ would do in Cas's place. It is something that he will never admit to Sam, knows his little brother will not understand, might pretend to, but really incapable of it, and he will not discuss his fears for Castiel with him either, just resolves to watch the angel a little more closely.

They are packed quickly, they had known that this day would come after all even if they had all been hoping that it would not come quite so soon, but everything was ready, everything kept mostly packed and it is with a sense of relief that Dean throws the bags in the trunk of the Impala, driving away far sooner than Dean thought they would.

They drive, hex bags hidden throughout the Impala, only a preventative measure, it will not last long, but they are there, in their pockets, heavy with the reminder of what they are running from, of how much trouble they are in and the danger that lurks at every stop. Still they drive, leaving town, city and country in the rearview mirror, careful where they stop, where they stay or squat but they all know that this cannot go on. It is wearing them down, dangerously so, and the longer they run the more time Lucifer has to hide, the more damage he can do.

They need a plan. Need a plan to find him, need one to stop him, need to get the angels off their backs. The running is getting to Dean, he needs to do more than drive and hustle and keep Castiel under wraps. He needs a hunt, even if it is just a simple salt and burn, he just needs _something_, as does Sam, just something to take their minds off things, to ease the tension, to show Castiel that there is more in this world than fear and anger and pain.

Still, there is nothing more to do than run.

_**You want to know why I feel so horrified?  
I've let my innocence die  
You want to know why I can't be pacified?  
You made me bury something  
I won't be sleeping tonight**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	2. Chapter 2

_I need to explore, I introduced her in Angel and she had a mention in Truth and she has a part to play in the future, so I'm playing with her a bit. Indulge me....._

_**  
I only wanted a blessing made  
Now I've been labeled a renegade  
It seems so clear now what I must do  
You're no immortal  
I won't let them  
Deify you  
They view you as the new messiah  
Deify you  
Renew belief in some demented man**_

Katie sighs and takes another swipe at the already clean counter. Ellen's new bar may be dark and dingy, the type of place that _hunters_ like, but she keeps it clean, she keeps the fights off the premises and even in this little town by the sea that is off the beaten track, she gets her share of custom, a cash only policy because so many hunters skip out on tabs and use fake credit cards. Katie has learnt a lot in her month here about the lives of these shady people. Lives of tragedy or breeding, usually both and in a way it is heartbreaking. It is also terrifying because hunters are ruthless, they see in black and white, good and evil, us and them.

She does not know where she fits into their world, so she keeps quiet, keeps her eyes averted when she does not need to look at them, keeps her mouth shut and her ears open. Ellen asks, sometimes, what she remembers from her time as a vessel, but Katie does not like to talk about it, talk about what little she _does_ remember, not with Ellen, who cannot possibly understand. She does talk about it with Sam though, on occasion, he still calls most days, to check up on her, to make sure that she is safe and _Ellen_ is safe and some nights the calls only last for a moment and others the calls can last for _hours_. She has not spoken about her life before all of this happened to her, the life that she _should_ be desperate to get back to, has worked hard to make sure that they think that, but does not want to, will not talk about her reasons, even though she has them.

In fact, she is closed lipped about a great many things, which is something else that upsets Ellen, because how can Katie expect the hunters to trust her at all if she never opens her mouth and never looks at them, if she shies away from everyone and everything. What Ellen does not understand is that Katie does not _want_ them to trust her, she just wants to be left alone.

Still, Sam calls, and Ellen pushes and Katie is beginning to realise that this is her life now. A dingy bar, coarse men and hard women, holy water in beer and rock salt in shot guns under the counter, Latin exorcisms that are learnt in the dead of night and more awareness of the evil in the world than she had ever wanted to know, despite the fact that she was already aware of the evils that could be inflicted by the hand of man, evils done by the will of angels. She _has_ to learn, because she has been told that sooner or later she will have to make her own way in the world once more, will have to protect herself, cannot be coddled forever.

She takes another swipe at the bar, looks up as she feels the air move and hears the rush of wings. A man is stood before her, a man who is not a man, his brown eyes cold, there is no soul there and she freezes. This is an angel, though why he is here and what he wants she cannot fathom.

"Be not afraid, Katherine," he tells her and she shudders, "I ask only that you give this to Castiel when he comes." A long, heavy package is placed before her and as quickly as he came, the stranger is gone and she is left to regard the package and his words with the suspicion of one deceived too many times. She cannot throw it out, does not throw it out, places it in the back of her wardrobe in her room and does not speak of it, not even to Sam when he calls an hour later.

SPN

Dean has gone into the gas station to pay for refuelling his car and Sam is sat in the front, busy talking quietly on his cell phone, talking to _Katie_. Katie who lives while his sister had to die so that Castiel could be saved and he spares a moment to dwell on the unfairness of that. Something else that he has lost while Sam, at least, seems to have gained something. As much as he _wants_ to, however, he cannot lift the blame for it from himself and place it squarely on that girls shoulders because he is at least partly responsible for everything that has happened, so he cannot blame her, _does not_ blame her, but _does_ resent the fact that she survived while Seraphiel had to die and Castiel hates himself for wanting to blame her.

He has plenty of time to dwell on that sort of thought during the long car rides and even longer nights. Even though he has _told_ Dean about the torture, he still has not dealt with the _emotions_ involved in it. Castiel _hates_ this, what he is becoming now, this creature that is neither human nor angel. Human emotions, but none of their _needs_, an angel's grace, but no ability to _use_ it, to draw on it as _he_ wants to, as he _needs_ to and he feels like a lead weight around the necks of the Winchesters.

Castiel is fingering the scars, fresh, red, _angry_, that crisscross his abdomen as he thinks and he has a great deal to think about. His shattered grace, his torture, which he tries _so_ hard not to think about, but it always comes to the fore. Other things too, like Katie, Seraphiel, Lucifer's sword, his position with the men he is travelling with, because he is not one of them, not a Winchester, and then there is Sandalphon.

Sandalphon, an archangel, one of a _pair_ of archangels, usually the one to take messages _too_ God, not deliver them. He has to wonder at the former prophet's reasoning in all of this, in telling them that Zachariah is on his way. Wonders which side of the fence that the archangel falls on, whether he wants both Heaven _and_ Hell to lose, because Dean wants things back the way that they were, no Hell, no Paradise, just Humanity and Castiel does not know what he wants is clear that the archangel is playing a game, however, and Castiel does not like it, does not know the rules that he is expected to play by.

Somehow he knows that it is his fault that Sandalphon found them, and thus that the garrison found them. He suspects that while he was talking to Dean, was shouting and raging and crying at Dean, he may have let some of his thoughts and words travel a little further, may have broadcast some of his anguish inadvertently. Revealed their location because he cannot control that which was once his to command.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this, though, worse even than being the reason they were discovered, is the fact that Dean _knows_. He knows how broken the angel is because in a moment of weakness he _told_ him. Told him while he was busy pouring his soul out, taking all of his worries and fear and placing them quite firmly on Dean's shoulders, Dean who already has far too many cares anyway and he feels guilty for adding to them. Even though Castiel knows that Dean has enough to worry about without taking him into account on top of that, he is also aware, painfully so, that he _does_. Does not _say_ anything, but Castiel knows by the way that his eyes will flicker up to the rearview mirror a little more frequently than they used to, so that he can check on him, the concerned glances when they stop. He does not need to say anything, because Castiel knows that is not his way, knows that he shows his concern in worried green eyes and thinly veiled jokes, never words, but always silent questions and reassurances.

That it is concern, not pity, warms Castiel because pity is still apparent in the way that Sam looks at him, the way that Sam treats him even though the younger Winchester knows that something has changed, changed the day that they decided to run, just from the way that Dean behaves. The way that he shrugs off Sam's insistent questions about _why_ Castiel cannot do more, _why_ he cannot simply pop in and out anymore, why he cannot take care of himself. Why he cannot take himself on the run, leave them, so that the Winchesters can head to the more angel and demon populated areas and get after Lucifer, kill him before humanity is all but wiped out and does not seem to completely understand that such an act will bring the Paradise that Dean fought so hard to try and prevent.

Paradise would be just as bad, if not worse, for Sam and Dean anyway. In Paradise there is no pain, no fear, no suffering or sorrow or heartache, but then, there is no joy either, no love, no lust, no happiness or excitement or hope, just bliss. Over the last month Castiel has come to realise that it is not just the _good_ things that makes humans what they are, but the bad as well, that to force them to live in perpetual bliss would be to take from them their free will, that is what had set them apart from the angels in his Father's eyes, and he knows, now, that this is simply a more subtle way of finishing what Lucifer started.

What terrifies him, though, is that the higher angels, the Seraphim and Cherubim, Thrones and Dominions, Virtues and Powers, all seem to be stood by watching, while Zachariah and those under him allow Lucifer to walk free and bring fire and destruction to the world. There has been no sign of them, no sign of his Father and Zachariah's callous dismissal of Him rings as a constant in Castiel's ears. If his Father _is_ gone, or just seemingly content to let the end of the world come, then to his mind this means that they are going up against is His will, because if He has chosen not to intervene, then who are they to try? Such thoughts will not translate well to Sam and Dean, so Castiel keeps them to himself, fears that he truly has lost his faith and cannot tell Sam and Dean that either, because angels cannot lose their faith, should not, it is what makes them what they are.

_**You want to know why it seems the passion's died?  
We've all been living this lie  
You want to know why my will's been fortified?  
You've made me hunger again  
Good luck sleeping tonight**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	3. Chapter 3

Here we go, chapter three and a little bit of a filler so that I can get to the next bit, the real meaty plot bit that I have wanted to use for a long time.

Also, pottingshedpixie, I found the song, all I can say is that it moved me to tears and I may have to use it at some point in the future. Thank you.

**I only wanted a blessing made  
Now I've been labeled a renegade  
It seems so clear now what I must do  
You're no immortal**

Dean is getting frustrated. Bobby has been scouring his books for weeks trying to find a way to effectively hide them from the angels on a more permanent basis, especially now that Dean knows that Castiel cannot use his mojo as well as they had thought. Bobby cannot find _anything_, it would seem that _no one_ has ever been this eager to hide from angels before, at least, not in the realms outside of dark rituals and blood magic and thank you so very much, but Dean has no intentions of sacrificing three children or two virgins in the name of staying under the angelic radar. There is another way, there _has_ to be, and they will find it. For Castiel's sake, for Sam's and for the rest of humanity, although they are only really thought about in the dead of night, when Dean questions the choice that he made and the words that he said.

He wants to hunt, _needs_ to hunt, but they cannot. Sam is withdrawn, over his addiction to demon blood, but not the same Sam that Dean has always known, and Castiel is too jumpy, cannot be left alone, cannot be taken to any of the investigations in case he says or does something that will give them away for what they are.

So hunting is out, and driving is very rapidly becoming an option that Dean really wishes they no longer had, because as much as he loves his car, and as much as he loves to drive her, he usually has a destination planned at the end of it. The aimlessness of all of this is more than just a little frustrating. They need somewhere to go, more than a little stir crazy trapped in the car together, Cas in his uncomprehending silence, Sam with his brooding and Dean with all of his worry and aggravation and the last thing they need is for a three way fight to break out.

He gets the idea when he hears Sam talking to Katie quietly, is still reluctant to let his younger brother out of his sight, still not able to completely trust him, but can tell that he likes the girl, at least enough to stay in contact with her. It is not Katie, however, that he wants to see, it is Ellen. The older woman has contacts, knows names that even Bobby does not, so there is the possibility that someone she knows may have exactly the information that they are looking for. So he makes his way there, slowly, taking detours and strange routes to try and throw off any followers, angelic or otherwise, has no measure for his success but three days after coming up with the idea he brings the Impala to a halt outside Ellen's place.

The bar is quiet when they enter, with no sign of Ellen, Katie behind the counter, her eyes distant and glazed and for a moment Dean fears that another angel has taken up residence. Then she blinks, startles, eyes focus on him for a moment before they slide away and fall on Sam, who gives her a tiny smile, something rare enough these days anyway. It is good to see.

The drive has been long, Dean is thirsty and he wants something a little stronger than coffee or water, something to relax him after so many long weeks and so much time spent looking over his shoulder. He knows that they are not entirely safe here, but that does not stop him from ordering a shot of whiskey and a beer, offers one to Cas, who declines with a shake of his head and a confused frown, and to Sam, who accepts a beer because that is still the way of things even with recent events. Katie serves them the drinks in silence, watches them with the occasional soft word to Sam and looks at Castiel like he is about to pound her into next week, Dean cannot understand that.

When Ellen returns it brings a sigh of relief from all quarters and Katie, already withdrawn, seems to sink more into herself, which makes Dean frown and glance at Ellen. The older woman shakes her head and Dean lets the matter drop, got too much on his mind right now as it is and instead engages in a conversation about their real reason for dropping by. Figures that they can stay for a few days, does not think that the angels will try to grab him and Cas in front of a lot of witnesses, hopes that they will not, because the plan from here? Well, he's drawing a blank about what to do next and could really use a bit of help.

It comes as a surprise to all when Katie turns to the angel, mutters to him in a voice too low to be heard by anyone else in the room, but whatever she says, Castiel seems to understand, because he stops playing with the rim of the half empty water glass she gave him to make him blend in a little more and follows her from the room, his step measured where hers are hurried. Dean is on his third beer by this point and Sam has taken to trying to get information from a hunter across the room Ellen has told them they can trust, the elder Winchester knows that he should be more concerned that his angel just disappeared up the stairs with a former vessel, but is not, figures that Castiel has the sword on him and what is the likelihood that the angels have caught up to them already?

So he talks to Ellen, looks to the door to the back on occasion to see if the angel and girl are on their way back down. He asks about Jo, about the new place, how life has been treating Ellen since he last saw her, finally asks how Katie is settling in, is not surprised when Ellen tells him that all is not well with her. Is less surprised to see her go past, arms wrapped tightly around herself and eyes averted from one and all. Ellen sighs at that, shakes her head mumbles about Katie not trusting the hunters and the hunters knowing that there is something off about her, that she worries that this may not be the safest place for the girl, which Dean is about to agree to, though he cannot think of anything else to do with her and is prevented from needing to when Castiel comes back down, heavy wrapped package in hand and face troubled.

"What is it, Cas?" Dean asks, face concerned as the package is rested on the counter, dull clunks sounding from the contents.

"It is mine, I have not used them since Lucifer fell," the angel mutters, voice low, eyes distant and hands reverential as he touches grey cloth, peels it back to reveal the strong, dark curve of wood and the flash of silver. The bow is exquisite, dark wood like Dean has never seen, inlaid with something similar to ivory, light to hold and he stares at Castiel.

"This is yours?" He asks, awed, glances at the arrows, silver tips, long wooden shafts of the same dark wood and flights of feathers that almost shimmer.

"Angel's feathers," Castiel supplies with a nod as he takes one in his hands, examines it, calmer than he has been, more at peace as well and Dean wonders at that. Wonders at the fact that the angel seems to have found a part of himself that had been buried under the fear and anger, find the warrior that Dean had thought lost to them.

"Cool," he smirks, because seriously, a bow and arrow was not something that he had pegged Cas as the type to use.

Some time during the discussion of weaponry and life, Sam has snuck out after Katie and it annoys Dean that he did not notice it as it happened, that he was too caught up in examining the latest addition to their arsenal of angelic weapons to see Sam sneak out and he is on edge for the rest of the evening, wanting to run out after him and drag him back to the bar kicking and screaming, but there are too many directions for him to have gone in and too many unknown moments between Sam leaving and Dean noticing and so he fiddles with his cell phone and tries calling him and gets no response, no answer and as the hours pass aggravation turns into worry.

"I have to leave," Castiel's voice cuts through him, and Dean stares up at him. "I have to leave now."

_**  
I won't let them  
Deify you  
They view you as the new messiahDeify you  
Renew belief in some demented man**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	4. Chapter 4

_So we reach the end of another fic Again I thank my reviewers, alerters and readers. There is a sequel in the works, but real life is interfering a little more noe so stick with me and it will be up as soon as possible._

_**All my devotion betrayed  
I am no longer afraid  
I was too blinded to see  
How much you've stolen from me**_

Katie is up to her ankles in sea water by the time that Sam finds her, mousey hair whipping behind her in the breeze and she is simply staring out at the setting sun as the bottoms of her jeans soak up the salt water. She hears his voice as though from a distance far greater than just a little way up the beach and turns, brushes stray hairs from her eyes and tries for a smile that does not take. Nor does Sam's though, when she thinks about it and she turns away from him again, eyes falling on the seemingly endless ocean as he hovers behind her, not speaking until she walks towards him, sighs, a broken noise and she sees him frown with it.

Her name is a whisper and she shakes her head, does not want to talk, does not want company but will allow Sam to stay, he and his brother have both done a great deal for her. They walk, away from the bar and she knows that they should really go back, that night is almost here and there is danger in the dark, danger greater than just the things that she had been afraid of before, but she cannot turn back, is not ready to quite yet, Castiel is there, Dean and Ellen are there, hunters are there and she does not want to face them again.

So they walk, and by the time the dark is fully over them and Katie is shivering in the cold, they are further away from the bar than they had intended to get. The light of the bar and the town is a distant beacon and Sam suggests, rather firmly, that maybe they should go back, drapes his large and heavy jacket over her as he says it and as grateful as she is for the warmth, she agrees anyway.

"Now where, exactly, do you two think you would be going?" A bald man stands in front of them, a man that Katie recognises from one of the few times that she was conscious as Seraphiel's host, the time that he pressed red hot metal into her chest and permanently marked her. His name slips from her lips like a curse and Sam's face holds the startled 'I thought he would be bigger' expression she had expected to be there but he steps in front of her anyway, protecting her from a threat he knows is there even though he does not have a chance. Not that it matters, Zachariah is capable of moving faster than both of them and there is only the slightest feeling of pressure on her forehead, then blackness.

SPN

Castiel stares at the bow, his weapon, sacred, holy, the only _tangible_ connection that he has ever had to his grace and for the first time since he disobeyed to help Dean, he feels at peace, feels the emotions rolling within him recede a little, just enough that he can appreciate everything that surrounds him once again. It cannot last, does not, just as he knew, deep down, that it would not.

Sam has been gone for several hours, walked out and followed Katie. Dean is becoming angry, is seriously considering going out and trying to find them and Castiel knows that he will follow, whether it is safe or not.

"_We know you hear us, brother,_" after silence for so many hours, so many days where he thought he had managed to cut himself off from them, Castiel goes rigid at the sound of hundreds of voices joined as one. "_We know you understand our words. We have them. The Boy King and the girl. Come to us, give yourself to us for your rightful punishment. Return to us and we shall set them free._"

The voices continue, over and over, offering, cajoling, threatening, demanding until finally they stop offering, stop trying to sound nice and reassuring, cease to be a multitude of voices and become just one that he recognises well, that cuts through the half peace that he has managed to maintain and makes his body clench in fear. His former superior, demanding, twisting, silencing the others and detailing exactly what will be done to Sam and Katie if Castiel does not hand himself in and he cannot allow that, cannot allow them to suffer as he suffered.

"I have to leave," he can feel Dean's eyes burning into him as he gets to his feet, reaches for his bow and drops his hand. "I have to leave now." His voice trembles as he steps away, moves to leave the room so that he can try to leave without being seen by the hunters who have gradually filtered into the bar.

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean demands, grabs his arm and Castiel regards the hand with a flash of panic, he has to go, he has to give himself up so that Sam and Katie will remain unharmed.

"Dean, please." He wrenches himself away, careful not to hurt him. "I _must_ go! Sam's life depends upon my leaving this place _now_!" Questions follow, rapid, demanding, Dean keeping Castiel in place as he hisses them out, grabbing the bow and arrows, using the grey cloth they were wrapped in as a make shift quiver as he drags Castiel out of the earshot of the other hunters and Castiel knows that there will be no shaking him now, no more peace to try and get away quietly and hand himself over, not able to simply transport himself to the location, the warehouse that he was told they are being held in, and so needing to get to a location where he can burn the hex bag.

So Castiel explains, explains what he knows, tells Dean where Sam is, gets into the car with him when Dean mutters and begins to drive, tells him what he intends to do to put things right, expects Dean to agree to it because he knows that Dean will do anything for Sam.

"No," there is determination there. "No, you're not doing that, I won't let you."

"I must," Castiel insists.

"No! Cas I am not going to let you give yourself up for torture again!" Dean's face is contorted with his anger, his eyes wild with panic and worry and fear and Castiel cannot quite believe that some of this concern really is for him. "There _is_ another way and we are gonna find it."

"There is nothing else that we can do. I promise you that they will not get the opportunity to torture me." He believes that the words will give Dean some comfort, is surprised when Dean knows exactly what it means and shakes his head, hard, fast, despair in the set of his shoulders.

"You gotta know they won't let you in there with the sword, Cas," he tells him and Castiel feels the tiny curl of an idea in his mind, a way to end this, the fear and the running and the pain, the _memories_.

"Which is why when they are distracted with me, you will find a place to hide yourself, you will use this and you will kill me," he lays his hands on the bow that is sat on the seat between them, sees Dean shudder at that.

"Forget it, I'm not killing_ you_ either!"

"There is no other way! You cannot keep running because of me!" He can feel his anger rushing now, lashing out at Dean because there is simply no one else there.

"We'll work something out," he sounds desperate and Castiel hates that he has been forced to ask this of Dean, but it needs to be done, because he does not wish to be a burden any longer, will not allow others to be harmed for his sake.

"Dean, please," he is begging, voice breaking.

"I'm not having this discussion, I'm not killing you and we are getting Sam and Katie back, end of." Dean is determined and Castiel knows now that he will not be able to change Dean's mind. Wants to disappear from the car and do what needs to be done.

He cannot and by the time he thinks he has managed to work up the will to actually manage it they are close to the warehouse and Dean has stopped the car. Castiel uses the moment to slip out, toss the hex bag on the seat and make his way down the street, is around a corner before two of his brothers grab him and he struggles for the sake of appearance, is dragged into a room, darkened walkways crisscrossing above it, is face to face with the one who ordered he be tortured and tormented. All thoughts of defiance, of drawing the sword, slither from his mind and he freezes, terrified.

Zachariah is unchanged, although Castiel is uncertain why he had expected the more powerful angel to be any different, just that the still functioning part of his mind believes that the sense of him should be off, that the taint of the evils he ordered be committed should stain him. There is no indication of them and it makes him ashamed of his terror, the feeling that holds him rooted in place while one of his escorts takes from him the blade that he has come to view as a minuscule source of comfort.

His former superior nods, then, to the other angels, takes the blade and lays it against the wall, reverential even though it has been used to slaughter more of their own kind since it's creation than it has the demons it was made to destroy. The nod turns out to be a signal to the others, a sign that they should leave and tend to Sam and Katie, although Castiel does not know whether it is to release them or to move them, _does_ know that Dean is difficult to control at the best of times, is aware that Zachariah will have figured this out by now. He will have worked out that Dean's true weakness is not his sense of guilt, but instead is _Sam_ and he will use that against the hunter.

When they are alone, the superior angel picks up the sword once more, turns it so that the light flashes off the silver of it, this one of a multitude of weapons that were removed from the possession of angels in millennia lost to fear and human ignorance, taken so that they could never again be used to slay their kind.

Even with this imminent threat, even knowing that it is _only_ Zachariah in the room with him, Castiel still cannot move, his fear has a greater control over him that he has ever imagined possible and it is far more effective at keeping him here in this place, more so than bindings or threats or traps could ever be. It keeps the lesser angel paralysed before his superior, keeps blue eyes fixed on the glitter of silver. Fear is what prevents him from uttering a sound as the very tip of the blade is pressed firmly against his chest.

"It would be so easy to kill you, Castiel," Zachariah muses, "to show you _mercy_," he spits the word, flicks the blade and a line of flesh and a trickle of blood appears where black t-shirt once lay. "But we are _not_ merciful," another flick, more pain, more blood, a whimper, "and the _others_, the others need to...."

There is a clatter as the blade tumbles to the floor, Zachariah's eyes widened in shock, staring down in surprise, pain and confusion at the arrow that has appeared in his right shoulder and it is what Castiel needs to bring him out of his fear induced paralysis, to ignore his own pain and lash out with his feet and his fists. To punch and kick until Zachariah is on the ground before him, brought low by Castiel's wrath. A simple matter, then, to twist the arrow of wood and grace and angel feathers that lies still buried in flesh, to hear him scream as it tears through that self same tissue, both physical and metaphorical, to look down upon him as he looked down upon Castiel and it is in that moment that Lucifer's sword catches the lesser angel's eyes.

It is retrieved, it's solid weight a comfort once more in his hand, cries a song in his ears as he cuts and slashes, inflicting but a tiny measure of the agony of his torture upon the writhing, _pathetic_ thing in front of him. Vaguely he can hear Dean calling his name, hears heavy boots on the concrete floor, but he cannot stop, he must not stop, because as soon as he does Zachariah will be on him once more and all will be lost to him. He does pause, however, for but a moment, looks upon his work and feels sick at the action that he has taken, raises the blade once more.

"_Heaven_ may not show mercy," he growls, arching it down, "but _I_ do, though you shall never deserve it," and eyes fall upon the lifeless corpse in two pieces as grace, tainted and chilled, flashes.

"Cas," there is concern in Dean's voice, mixed with relief and fear. "C,mon, Cas," he is pulling at the angel's arm, "lets get out of here, c'mon." Castiel lets him, lets Dean pull him from the room and the warehouse, only half hears that Sam and Katie are safe near the door, that they have to leave now before someone finds the body. He is in shock, feels hollow and empty and utterly alone, no longer knows what to do and feels the sword taken from almost lifeless fingers as he is bundled into the car, unseeing, unknowing. Still lost.

SPN

In the warehouse two figures stood over the corpse of the vessel that once housed the angel Zachariah, the eyes of the severed head open in eternal shock and fear.

"It is done," the figure with unruly blonde hair spoke to his companion.

"Yes, our brother is lost to us forever and his path is set. Michael has ordered the garrisons to cease their searching, Castiel has another part to play." The other spoke, his black hair close cropped and clothes crisp, the opposite to his companions more rumpled appearance.

"Zachariah is a martyr to his cause now, a great many of our brethren will flock to his banner who once refused to ally themselves to him. Many obstacles now stand in Winchester's path."

"He shall overcome them, such is our Father's Will. Have faith brother."

There is a flash and when the light clears the warehouse is clear, no body, no blood, no destruction.

_**  
Deify you  
They view you as the new messiah  
Deify you  
Renew belief in some demented man**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


End file.
